


Fire, Burning Bright

by JEAikman



Series: The Musketeers - prompts and one-shots [12]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Athos trying to play nursemaid but needing aramis because he has hardly a clue, Gen, Hurt d'Artagnan, Major Character Injury, ill d'artagnan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:23:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1262746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JEAikman/pseuds/JEAikman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>D'Artagnan rushes into a burning building (he seems to do a lot of that lately) to save the life of a young child, but gets himself injured in the process. The other Musketeers have to take care of him as fever sets in, and in his delusions, he might reveal more about his past than he meant to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written with a prompt from promisingbutraw on tumblr in mind. but ended up rather than him being his usual cocky self, he's his usual reckless self.  
> Will be mentions of the sister from my dream in the next chapter. Should only be three chapters at most.

D'Artagnan winced as Athos crudely bandaged his arm with ripped strips of his tunic, and he kept his eyes on the floor. He didn't need to see the look of disappointment on his face. He could feel it keenly enough without looking.

"You disobeyed me, boy." He admonished, and d'Artagnan just wanted to curl up and die.

"I know." He mumbled, his eyes still fixedly pointed to the floor. He remembered the night clearly. "But I don't regret it."

_D'Artagnan saw the flames well before Athos did, saw the mother screaming for her baby and her neighbours holding her back, and made a decision in an instant. Athos was powerless to stop him except to shout his name order him not to go in there, and watch and wait with baited breath as his rookie ran into the building which was currently set aflame. Was this horrible nauseous feeling in the bit of his stomach the same as what the boy had felt on finding him in his childhood home, lying on the floor, insensibly drunk and inhaling smoke? He could only watch, and hope, and pray. He could feel the heat of the flames from where he was standing, but that was nothing compared to how d'Artagnan was feeling._

_The young Gascon stumbled through the burning building, and he soon found the child cowering in a corner. She couldn't have been more than three. He crouched down next to her and coaxed her out, wrapping her tightly in his arms, running as fast as he could towards the exit._

_However, one of the beams began to collapse, and, knowing that he would never make it in time, he threw the girl out of the doorway, back to her mother, before it fell on him. He was choking on the smoke already, and he let out a cry as the burning wood seared his back. He couldn't move. Oh god. He was going to die._

_As soon as he saw the girl outside the house without her saviour, Athos sprung into action. He ran in through the door, and seeing the state his friend was in, hastened to his side to remove the offending log. He could feel it burn in his hands and he quickly threw it to the side, dragging his now unconscious friend out of there as quickly as he could._

_"Water! Someone fetch me some water!" He called out. The mother of the child who had been rescued fetched one from her neighbour, and Athos poured it on d'Artagnan's wound, eliciting a shout of pain from the boy. "Easy there, my lad." He soothed. "Come on. I'll get you home and out of those clothes. I don't want the fabric sticking to your burns." For good measure, he splashed some of the water over d'Artagnan's face, and the boy spluttered indignantly, which inwardly relieved Athos. If he was still aware enough for that, then there was hope, at least._

_He half supported, half dragged him away from the scene, towards his own apartments, where he could keep an eye on him. He could send someone with a message to inform Constance of her lodger's condition. He did not doubt that both he and the boy (when he was significantly recovered -when, never if) would receive a thorough tongue lashing by her hand about, respectively, letting d'Artagnan nearly get himself killed, and rushing headfirst into danger without a thought to his own safety._

_He sat d'Artagnan down on the bed, and peeled off the clothes as carefully as possible. It was difficult, but d'Artagnan bit his lip and determinedly said not a word, though Athos could tell he was in an extreme amount of pain from the way his face screwed up, and the way he was audibly trying to school his breathing._

_"How's the pain, d'Artagnan?" He asked softly, and the boy made to shrug, forgetting his shoulder for a moment, his eyes going wide. "Don't lie to me, boy. Tell me honestly."_

_"Worst pain I've ever felt, actually. Though that means it's not as bad as it could have... been, because then I wouldn't... feel it at all." It took great effort for him to talk, and Athos had to fight not to roll his eyes._

_"You're worse than Porthos. We're going to have to keep an eye on you in the field, if you keep on with these harebrained, selfless, utterly idiotic heroics." Looking at the raw and mangled skin on the boy's back, he knew he would need Aramis here, and quite soon, too._

 

Athos smiled, despite himself. He'd made sure the bandages were wet - the boy needed something to sooth the burns on his shoulder - which looked awful, but could have turned out worse, he reasoned. Still, they unnerved him. He wished he had Aramis on hand. He would have been better equipped to handle this. Bullet wounds he can deal with. Burns... not so much.

"I know. But you never gave a moment's thought to your own safety. You never do, and that's not something I can simply overlook." The younger man scoffed, even as he tried to breathe through a wave of pain that the burns brought on.

"Yes well, I wasn't going to leave someone to die in a burning building if I knew I could save them, was I?" And suddenly they weren't talking about the little girl anymore, but something more personal, for both of them.

"d'Artagnan..." Athos began, and then sighed. "What if they don't want to be saved?"

"Then I'd say they're lying and have deluded themselves into thinking they don't deserve it." He tried to look seriously at Athos, but was hit by a coughing fit at just that moment.

"Don't make a habit of it", the older man admonished. "Here, lad. Drink some water." Athos told him, pressing the cup to his lips. d'Artagnan  drank greedily. "Easy, now. Don't want to start it off again." He watched him carefully and made him lie back down on the bed, on his front, to leave the wound in the open. "You need rest."

"mmph" d'Artagnan made a feeble, incoherent protest, but he was tired, and the sleeping draught mixed with his drink was starting to take effect.

"Hush now. Aramis will be back from his patrol soon and I'll get him to take a look at you - take your rest whilst you can get it. I'm worried about that shoulder." _And Lord help us if a fever sets in_ ,he added silently, praying that it would not happen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone worries over d'Art and has feels.  
> that's it. that's the chapter.

Aramis noticed the burnt out building, but thought nothing of it other than to offer a prayer for the family whose house was destroyed, and to hope that everyone had gotten out safely, until he heard the people gossiping in whispers

"did you hear...?"

"That lad that's always with those Musketeers-"

"rushed right in to save that girl he did. Not a thought for himself."

"The other one got him out though. I hope he's alright. He's a bright young lad." When he realised just who they were talking about, his heart just about leapt into his throat.

He ran the rest of the way to Athos's apartments and flung open the door. Athos, while surprised, only showed it outwardly by quirking an eyebrow.

"d'Artagnan?" The other man asked, and Athos inclined his head, looking down at his young charge on the bed with a sad sigh. His temperature had only climbed, despite his best efforts, and though he slept, Athos could not ignore the pained whimpers which came from him even now.

"I'd hoped you would have returned sooner. He needs help - but I did not want to leave him. Just in case-" He cut himself off, not wanting to admit such a possibility aloud.

"Alright" Aramis took off his hat and placed it at the side of the bed, and took the water and cloth from Athos's hands. Peeling back the cloths already on the wounds, he cringed. "Athos. Go and tell Treville what's happened. I will care for him as best I can, but he really needs an actual doctor." He met his eyes, conveying that if he did not get said doctor, d'Artagnan might not make it through the night.

"Alright, Aramis. Take good care of him." He paused as he was about to go out the door, looking and taking in the pale face, hair drenched in sweat and the laboured breathing of their young comrade. "we cannot lose him. He's..."

"He's one of us." Aramis finished for him. Athos nodded, and took his leave.

 

He wasted no time in striding up the stairs when he just about crashed into Porthos

"Oh, Athos, Treville was looking for you - do you know where Aramis and d'Artagnan- what happened?" He asked when he noticed the pained expression on Athos's face.

"Come back inside while I talk to Treville. I only want to say this once." Porthos frowned, but nodded, and made way for Athos to go through the door first.

"Athos, there's been talk of a Musketeer being involved in an incident with a fire, investigate it." He ordered. Athos sighed.

"No need." Treville looked up sharply from his paperwork, his eyes scrutinizing his lieutenant's face.

"What happened?"

"There was a fire, and a child still in the building. D'Artagnan rushed into save her. Aramis is trying to treat his burns as we speak, but his skill with such wounds is limited." He took in a deep, steadying breath as Porthos laid a hand on his shoulder. "If he does not get proper care... Aramis didn't sound particularly hopeful, sir. I-" his voice wavered. The captain nodded.

"Very well. I will send for the best doctor I can find. In the mean time, you're all on leave until further notice. You'll be useless if you're distracted." That was as close as _go look after him you idiots_ as Treville was going to get.

"Kid's like a little brother" Porthos told him, "we're not going to let anything happen to him." Athos wanted to laugh hysterically - like a little brother? Didn't Porthos know what happened to little brothers? They died. They died, and it was all his fault. Treville seemed to notice the direction that his musketeer's thoughts had taken, so he subtly shook his head, so only Athos noticed.

"Quite right. He's got potential, and I'm not going to see it so easily wasted. The best doctor I can find, quick as I can find him. Now go. Your brother needs you." Athos swallowed, nodding, letting Porthos steer him through the streets and back towards his apartments.

 

Aramis was getting worried. D'Artagnan was at least partly conscious now - but he did not think he would say that the boy was awake, as such. His eyes had a faraway look about them, and he thought perhaps he was dreaming with his eyes open. Until he started mumbling in his sleep.

"M'ri.... come home. 'm sorry. Come back." Aramis frowned, and put another cold cloth over the boy's brow. He was getting more and more concerned, but at least the boy was still enough.

"Father...'m sorry I couldn't save you. So sorry, sorry." Aramis's eyebrows arched. Oh, the poor boy. He offered up a prayer before  wiping his forehead and murmuring softly.

"Hush now, lad. It wasn't your fault. None of what happened was your fault. Hush, hush. Sleep. You'll be alright. You will." He brushed back the boy's hair fondly, and looked up as he heard the pounding of feet up the stairs. Two sets - Porthos must be there as well.

"How is he?" His friend demanded, as Athos walked in silently behind him. Aramis sighed and shook his head.

"I hope that doctor hurries, because there isn't much more I can do except keep him cool. But it's not working as well as I'd hoped." He paused, meeting their gazes briefly before looking away, unable to deal with the protective worry in Porthos's eyes, or the unveiled anguish in those of Athos. "he's been talking - half dreaming, I think. Keeps mentioning his father. And someone named Marie?" He voiced the last question towards Athos, who shook his head and sat down next to Aramis, his eyes never leaving d'Artagnan.

"That was his sister's name" He told them quietly. Aramis looked up at him, frowning, and Porthos asked with surprise

"He has a sister? He never told us."

"No, and why should he? She's been missing for over five years, probably dead." Athos told them. Aramis worried his lip distractedly. Things did not look hopeful if the boy was already seeing dead relatives in his sleep. All were quiet as they took that in, watching the rise and fall of the boy's chest, afraid to look away lest it stopped.

 

"WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO MY LODGER NOW YOU-" Athos had almost forgotten about the messenger he sent to inform Constance of d'Artagnan's condition.  When she saw him laid out on his front, and the huge welt which had formed from the burn, she gasped and covered her mouth, blinking back tears. Athos reached out a hand to steady her.

"There was a child trapped in a burning building - you know d'Artagnan. He rushed in before I could stop him." She sniffed, and let the man wrap his arms around her comfortingly. "He is dear to us all, Madame. We will not let him go." She nodded against him, still sniffling, before pulling away. There was a knock on the door that the four of them could only hope was the doctor.

 

It was, and Treville was with him too, his mouth set in a grim line when he saw the horrific injury on the boy's back. They all backed away to let the physician do his work, and they waited for results with bated breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say sorry for leaving it on such a cliffhanger, but - I'm not. because I am cruel and evil.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter of this, which was a complete pain.
> 
> Nice surprise at the end :D

It was a long night, to say the least. Athos did not sleep at all, Aramis only in short bursts. Porthos slept like a log, though, trusting his friends to wake him if anything happened. Constance slept kneeling with her head rested on her arms at the foot of the bed, and her sleep was troubled, though she did not stir. They were all in rather awkward sleeping positions, but none of them much cared.

 

All the while, Athos kept his eyes on the rise and fall of d'Artagnan's chest, keeping vigil. He could not get the images of Thomas out of his mind. His brother had not died immediately, but slowly bled to death in his arms. Every time he put the Gascon into danger, he felt like he might lose his brother again - but he knew that d'Artagnan could handle himself in a fight - but this, the waiting, the constant checking to make sure the boy was still breathing - he felt so useless. There was nothing he could do for the boy but hope, and pray - something he had not had any faith in for a long time. He extricated himself from the bundle of bodies piled into the room to kneel at the boy's side, resting his elbows on the mattress and his head bent over his clasped hands.

_God, if there is any mercy left within you, take him not. If it were merely to spite my damned soul, there are other ways. But to take d'Artagnan now would rend not only my soul, but those of all in this room, and others besides. I beg of you, Lord, preserve him. For if he dies, you have murdered us all. Spare him, that is all I ask._

Aramis was awake at this point, and watched his leader with a great fondness. It spoke of his great affection for his friends that he would thus kneel in prayer, and, inspired by the sight, the errant priest offered up one of his own. _Father who art in Heaven, I ask of you to spare our friend. He has done so much good here. Let him do much more before you take him to your arms. Amen._

He then went to kneel next to Athos, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Numbly, Athos leant into him, which Aramis hadn't quite expected, but if the other needed comfort, he was more than willing to give it. He pulled him close so that the back of Athos's head was pressed into Aramis's shoulder, and Aramis had a firm grip on Athos's arm.

"D'Artagnan his strong, dear friend. He will not abandon us so easily as all that." As he said the words, he became more sure of it. "besides," he added, his eyes flitting over to where Constance was sleeping "do you think he'd ever want to be away from dear Madame Bonacieux's side? He would strike down armies for that woman - what trouble can it be for him to evade death for the same reason?" Athos nodded, but Aramis could tell he'd completely failed in reassuring him, as he would not so much as take his eyes off the Gascon.

"I should probably put more of that salve on his wound. Can you hold him, in case he wakes?" He asked softly, "I can wake Porthos if you'd rather not." He added when he saw the pallor of his friend's face. Athos shook his head, standing out of Aramis's embrace.

"I'll be alright." He told him, as Aramis retrieved the medicine that was needed. Athos held the boy's upper arms firmly, just hoping that he wouldn't lash out with his feet and end up kicking Constance in the face. The boy's back was bare, as the physician had informed them it was better to leave the wound to the elements, as bandages would likely stick and irritate it further. Aramis gathered the paste onto his fingers and waited for Athos to indicate that he would be ready to stop d'Artagnan from moving should it be needed.

The boy woke with a gasp as the salve was applied, but he did not thrash too much, as Athos soothed him gently whilst Aramis continued his work.

"There now lad. No need for fussing, you'll be just fine."

"Athos - what....?" d'Artagnan sounded confused, and his voice pained, but at least his voice seemed clear.

"You back with us now, d'Artagnan?" Aramis asked kindly.

"Hmmm. Back hurts."

"It would." He agreed. "You were burned quite badly. For a while-" he cut himself off, trying not to let his voice betray him. "For a while, it wasn't certain that you'd ever wake up" Blinking, d'Artagnan tried to prop himself up on his good arm so that he could look around the room.

_"Everyone's_ here?" He asked, incredulous. Even captain Treville had spent the night. It warmed his heart to think that his friends had come to care so much about him - but it pained him to have worried them so. "I did not mean to be such an inconvenience." He apologized, but Athos just leant forward and gently ruffled his hair.

"The only inconvenience would have been your death, foolish Gascon."

"Indeed." Aramis agreed. "It simply wouldn't do to lose our little brother now, would it?" d'Artagnan's eyes widened and he turned to Athos, who merely gave him a sad smile and a nod. "I would never have forgiven myself, d'Artagnan, were you to perish." He admitted quietly. Though it pained him to do so, d'Artagnan reached out his arm and squeezed Athos' hand in understanding.

"Besides, there's someone else who was very worried about you, young man." D'Artagnan looked confused until he turned his head in the direction that Athos was nodding his in. He saw Constance, her arms folded, her head rested on top of them, and her hair falling over her face, the just rising sun made her ringlets shine with reflected golden light. Athos looked back at d'Artagnan, who was just staring at her with awe.

"I really do think I love her" He admitted, his voice a barely audible whisper. Aramis and Athos shared a look above his head. Then Athos just squeezed d'Artagnan's hand.

"Who knows what the future will bring, lad." The sad bitterness he felt at his own experience with love came to the forefront of his mind. But this young pair were about as far from he and Anne as any couple could be. They were bright, honest fire. More like roses than forget-me-nots. "But don't despair of it."

D'Artagnan raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure _you_ didn't inhale any smoke? Because not only are you giving out advice, but you're telling me to be hopeful in affairs of the _heart_." Aramis smiled at the pair of them before shaking his head.

"How's the pain, d'Artagnan?"

The Gascon considered for a moment, before half shrugging.

"It's bearable."

"I can get you a tonic, if you need one," Aramis offered, but d'Artagnan just shook his head stubbornly.

"No, really, I don't need it."

 

All the noise had woken up Constance, and she blinked blearily, stretching her arms out and yawning.

"Morning, sleepyhead." D'Artagnan greeted. at hearing his voice, Constance immediately bolted upright and budged Athos out of her way so she could sit by his side, and she leant forward and kissed him firmly on the mouth.

"Don't you ever do that to me again, you idiot." D'Artagnan just smiled, because he knew, and she knew, too, that such a promise was one he could never make.


End file.
